


Who I Am

by IchigoMoonCutter



Category: Bleach
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackmail, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Kidnapping, Original Character(s), Physical Abuse, Prisoner of War, Quincy Army, Shinigami, Shinigami/Zanpakutou Bond, Stabbing, Swords, War Potential, Zanpakutou
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8456338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IchigoMoonCutter/pseuds/IchigoMoonCutter
Summary: Divergence from canon chapter 514 Born in the Dark.
Ichigo Kurosaki is a weapon, a human vessel of raw power that obliterates at a whim.Taken from the Soul Society and brought into the Quincy stronghold to be turned into a controlled soldier, Ichigo fights until he can fight no more.All the while he's torn between loyalties, dealing with his messed up soul, and coming to terms with a new purpose in life; things have never looked so bleak for the Substitute Soul Reaper.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Continues BLEACH chapter 514 with a twist. (recap: Ichigo unconsciously uses his Quincy powers to stop Yhwach from slicing through his neck, Yhwach goes into beat down mode, knocks Ichigo's blade out of the way while grabbing his hair and poises his sword to stab through Ichigo's chest. He was intervened by the returning shadows, but what if he wasn't?)

The large sword was thrust through his chest and held there. His enemy’s grip on his hair tightened as he was pulled forwards slightly, the iron blade sinking deeper into his upper body. He couldn’t feel pain, only a detached sense of surprise. The rage and curiosity he’d felt moments ago were now nowhere to be found.   
  


Ichigo’s arms were momentarily frozen, held high above his head as if he could still pull off a counter attack. Then they registered the sword that had impaled his torso and fell limply to his sides.   
At this, the Quincy leader withdrew his weapon and slammed the Substitute Soul Reaper into the rubble with his other arm. The sudden pain to the head was enough to daze Ichigo momentarily. A ringing filled his ears and threatened to claim his vision, but he fought it off, pushing his arms down in an endeavor to lift himself from the ground.   
  


“You are strong, Ichigo Kurosaki,” the Quincy spoke solemnly, watching the boy’s attempts to rise to his feet. “But your body is failing you as your strength drains away. Your efforts are a lost cause, as is your reason for fighting. It is time for you to return and face your heritage. This battle is already lost.”   
  


“It doesn’t matter,” Ichigo replied; coughing up spit as he finally managed to get to his knees. “Even if I’ve lost, I’ll keep fighting.”   
  


His enemy’s eyes narrowed.   
  


“Then I’ll crush you till you can no longer move and break your mind till you can no longer think.” 

With that, he disappeared. Ichigo could feel him coming from behind, the sword this time stabbing at his legs. Gathering any spare energy he could muster, he pushed it into his feet and performed a single flashstep that sent him careening into a broken wall. It took some effort to ignore the ache in his neck and clamber to his feet, his sword rising just in time to block another incoming strike.    
  


From then on out it was all defensive tactics. Dodging and blocking, thrusting and pushing back against the blade which was seemingly hungry for his blood.  All Ichigo found that he could do was predict where the next strike would come and rush to meet it. It wasn’t the most reliable method in battle, but it was all the Substitute Soul Reaper could do with the Quincy’s belligerent swordplay.   
  


However, it was becoming clear just who was exhausted and who was merely toying with the other.   
Ichigo—aware his spirit energy was running dry—changed defensive tactics to a more desperate mode while in a fierce sword lock. He swung a foot up with a sudden rush of adrenaline; His leg connected with his enemy sword, making a dull ringing noise as the blade cracked slightly. Encouraged, he pushed more weight into his sword and was rewarded with the Quincy’s weapon breaking in two.    
  


Nevertheless, his enemy, undeterred by this remarkable feat, easily dodged Tensa Zangetsu’s oncoming blade and slammed the blunt, glowing side of his remaining sword viciously into Ichigo’s temple.   
The desired result was immediate. Ichigo was sent tumbling to the side, coming to a halt several yards away face up on the gravel. His crumpled body was too dizzy to move an inch as he felt inclined to vomit; his inner ear refusing to cooperate. He could barely make out the dark clouds in the sky.    
  


The rain fell on his face, cold and unrelenting. It was strange. It hardly ever rained in the Soul Society before to his knowledge. Why today of all days?   
  


He could make out a dark shape above him. It was the leader of the Quincy army, the mastermind of the destruction of the Soul Society, the reason why Rukia, Renji, Byakuya and so many others were on the brink of death.    
  


Now he couldn’t see. His vision was swimming and twisting.   
  


He heard a snapping noise and felt pain from his right leg. His enemy must have broken it.    
  


“No more running away, Ichigo Kurosaki.”    
  


He felt the neck of his bankai coat being grabbed by a strong hand and the rough ground moving beneath him as he was dragged. Tensa Zangetsu was still clutched in a death grip. It was the only thing he could do; hang onto his sword as everything else slipped away.   
  


“Haschwald, let’s return to the palace. The Royal Guard is of no matter at the moment. We have two war potentials in exchange. Order the soldiers to pull back and have someone bring Kenpachi Zaraki.”   
  


“It will be done at once, your majesty.”   
  


A power wrapped around Ichigo’s body; it was unfamiliar yet gave him a strange sense of comfort, like he was with people he’d known for a long time.    
  


The strong hand was still tightly clinging onto his cloak, taking him deeper into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere, deep in the border lines of his thoughts, it registered that the person whose hand belonged to was the enemy he’d been fighting moments before. But this did not bother him. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He simply existed and felt things.

Pain was his sole companion besides the hand, overwhelming and constant. It mostly centered in his chest and head, clogging his thoughts and preventing him from thinking straight.   
  


He didn’t know how long it lasted, but one thing he did remember was the warm power encircled around him, almost protectively, releasing him to the bittersweet bliss of unconscious.

  
  
“—exhausted his inner core. The fever is a mere side effect from using it, coupled with the heavy wounds makes it difficult to determine. It will take him a full week to recover at the very least.”   
  


“Will he be able to use it again? Is it damaged beyond repair?”   
  


“The remains of the seal were the strongest we’ve ever encountered, not that it’s hardly surprising, but to break that seal so forcibly and to drag out the power...only time will tell I fear, your majesty.”   
  


“I see. Given the condition, I also assume the reeducation was unable to take effect.”   
  


“R-regrettably sir, it couldn’t attune to his reiatsu or his reiryoku. B-both the insert plan and core plan were an u-utter failure.  A different method s-should be provided…sir…”   
  


“Indeed. We shall simply do it the old fashioned way.”   
  


“S-sir?”   
  


“When he’s completely recovered, put two verschluss on his wrists and place him in the weiß room. We’ll decide later on what to do. Until then, keep him sedated.”   
  


“Yes, your majesty.”    
  
He heard muffled voices coming from what sounded like through cotton. Something was encasing his eyes and head. It felt like a helmet made up of some soft like fabric.   
  


He tried to move his hands so he could remove the new found annoyance, but discovered his wrists solidly bound to his sides to what felt to be a rail or protective guard of some sort.   
  


His body was stiff, painful, and very cold. Shivers kept passing down his spine as sweat trickled down his neck.   
  


His mind, thick with sleep, was suddenly cleared as it came to his unwavering attention that his shirt was missing. Of course, he could feel that he was covered waste down. But that cold, naked feeling was still there.   
  


The sound of a door closing could be heard and light footsteps coming near his side startled him. The doctor or whoever it was must have noticed him moving. Ichigo inwardly cursed as he forced himself to relax, hoping to pass off the suspicion that he was awake.    
  


“Ah, I see you’ve woken up, Kurosaki,” the light voice was recognizable from the conversation he’d previously overheard. “How are you feeling?”   
  


Deciding it couldn’t hurt to be honest; he rasped out, “I feel like crap.”   
  


The cheerful man didn’t seem put off by his bluntness or the fact that he really was conscious.   
  


“Well, that’s to be expected. Would you like to hear a briefing on your condition? I am assigned to you and have been given orders to fill you in on certain details.”   
  


Ichigo managed to give a faint nod and the voice continued in a long-winded rhythm, “You have a severe concussion after taking trauma to your skull. That being said, we don’t want to take any chances of inflicting damage and risk internal bleeding. The result was that we had to cover your head and eyes in protective gear. So I’m afraid you’ll have to stay like this for another three days or so, just to be safe. Your other wounds will be healed within a week. But I must advise you to try not to move your leg; the bones have to set properly. So in the meantime, it’s your job to recover, so try not to exhaust yourself strain against the straps. Any questions?”   
  


“How long have I been here?”   
  


There was a brief pause, as if the person was checking his watch.   
  


“Nearly 23 hours.”   
  


“Oh.”   
  


Ichigo’s thoughts drifted to Urahara, Chad, Orihime, and Nel, hoping they made it out of Hueco Mundo safely.   
  


“Where am I?”   
  


“In the recuperation wing of Palast aus Eis,” said the light voice with a spark of pride. “The room you’re in is a private one.”   
  


“Where’s Kenpachi?”   
  


“Ah, the other Soul Reaper brought with you? Yes, he’s in another room…recovering.”   
There was something in the tone that made Ichigo doubt that last sentence, not that it was really surprising. It wasn’t like he’d expect the enemy to tell him the truth.   
  


“Where’s Zangetsu?”   
  


”Your Soul Cutter? Oh, don’t worry, we’re keeping it safe. I assure you no harm will befall it.”   
Ichigo knew it was no lie, he could feel Zangetsu, a lingering hum on the edge of his mind. His zanpakuto was safe…for now.   
  


“Did my brain have any serious swelling or bruising?”   
  


“Only minor, nothing of immediate concern, but as I previously informed you, we’re taking precautions.”   
  


“What have I been eating? There’s a weird aftertaste in my mouth…”   
  


“We gave you a small supply of a liquefied mix of reishi; it’s what we use to sustain our bodies whenever we hunger or thirst. Needless to say, I’m sure it’s odd for a first timer. Your tongue might feel numb as an aftereffect.”   
  


Ichigo was silent, pondering over what he should ask next. He bit down on his tongue to see if it really was numb. It wasn’t.   
  


A conversation in Hueco Mundo came to his mind—it the one he had with the Quincy who trapped him in the garganta.   
  


“What is a “War Potential” and why am I one?”   
  


“It means you have potential to become a problem to our cause, Ichigo Kurosaki,” said a new, deeper voice.   
  


It was him, the Quincy leader.    
  


Ichigo frowned the best he could in the direction where the voice had come from, trying to cover up his surprise. When has he come in?   
  


“Your Majesty, I did not see you enter.”   
  


“It is of no matter.”   
  


Ichigo heard heavy footsteps come closer and he stiffened unconsciously as his hands balled into fists. He wanted nothing more than the ability to fight back; to see and defend himself against a strike that was sure to come.   
  


“You want to know what you are…Ichigo…”   
  


It was not a question.    
  


The Quincy that had been tending to Ichigo left the room, leaving them both alone.    
  


“Such a loss it is, to go through and live life, not knowing what you are, treading in the dark.”   
  


“I can live without such information.”   
  


“Even if it regards your parents?”   
  


The Substitute Soul Reaper froze. He wasn’t denying it to himself; after all, he was curious to any info regarding his parents. The Quincy leader had mentioned his mother before; indicating to knowing more about her than Ichigo did himself.    
  


And that stung bitterly.   
  


His mother, given his current circumstances and hints the enemy leader was obviously alluding to, must have been a Quincy. Ichigo supposed it was for that very reason why she and his father were avoiding contact with any supernatural beings. Toppled with the fact that they sired Half-Quincy Half-Soul Reaper children, it must have been all the more reason to hide away. Or had been at least…until….when?    
  


His father, to Ichigo’s knowledge, was avoiding any contact with the Soul Society, or maybe it was he was ignoring the Head Captain specifically….which lead to the disgusting question of just how old his father really was—   
  


“Why does it matter to you?” Ichigo asked, annoyed with himself for letting his mind wander.

 

A hand gently traced over Ichigo’s head injury, causing him to wince at the slight pain it caused.   
  


“You hold certain significance in this glorious war, a great destiny I won’t deny you of. I am merely seeing it through.”   
  


“See it through?” said Ichigo cynically as his bound fists clenched and unclenched, “you mean to use me to your own ends; destiny be damned.”   
  


“Not at all,” replied the Quincy, an amused note could be heard in his voice. His fingers withdrew from Ichigo’s head. “You will walk your own path; I will merely point the way. In the end, it will be up to you to make your own choices.”   
  


“Oh? And what makes you think I’ll listen to you?”   
  


The Quincy leader laughed; his cold voice echoing around the room, “You will, in time, heed my every word.”   
  


Ichigo could hear the hidden threat. They were going to break him, and make sure he stayed broken.   
  


“We will see…”   
  


At this, the man laughed again with a cold sort of humor, “Your mother,” he began, “her denial is much like yours. And it did nothing but speed her approaching death.”   
  


Ichigo felt hate stirring within the depths of his stomach.  _ How dare he— _   
  


“She ran away from her heritage, denied her race and allied with the enemy. She forgot the price for such a crime.”   
  


Ichigo was practically grinding his teeth, “What are you saying—”   
  


“Our scouts had discovered her existence, quite fascinating really—to learn that she passed on her precious blood to three offspring. Of course, it was even more curious that she bonded with a Soul Reaper, a noble and a captain no less. So naturally, when the situation arose, we took advantage and carried out her punishment.”   
  


Ichigo had the sudden urge to rip out from his bindings and wrap his hands around the Quincy’s throat. He didn’t want to hear anymore, didn’t want to believe what his enemy was implying, but all he could do lay there—speechless—as the Quincy spoke of the dreaded act.   
  


“Our way of atonement is simple. The erasing of a soul: to be destroyed from all existence…never to be reborn anew. This is what awaits all hollows, Soul Reapers, and anyone else who guilty of grievous crimes.”   
  


The man with the cold voice withdrew from Ichigo’s bedside, content with leaving the Substitute to snarl and scream obscenities in his wake.   
  


“Medizin, see to it that he heals up properly.”   
  


The door opened and shut.   
  


Ichigo writhed in his recovery bed, fuming. He wanted nothing more than to kill the man for suggesting his mother’s soul was destroyed. He wanted to deny it was even possible, that the hollow, Grand Fisher, alone was responsible from his mother’s death.    
  


There were however two key problems to his reasoning. The first one was the fact that he’d been knocked out right after he nearly touched Grand Fisher’s lore.  He didn’t know what happened afterwards, only that was when he regained consciousness; his mother was already dead, still holding him tightly to herself. The second reason was why did Grand Fisher stop at his mother and not eat him as well? Ichigo recalled Rukia’s lectures on hollows, something about a hollow never being satisfied with its fill.    
  


What had frightened Grand Fisher so badly to leave behind a delicious soul and run?   
  


_ “So naturally, when the situation arose, we took advantage and carried out her punishment.” _   
  


Ichigo felt even more confused than before. What did any of this mean?   
  


He was so focused on his internal thoughts that he never heard the Quincy, who had originally been tending to him, walk over to his bed and turn on a machine, so that a steady hum vibrated throughout the room. His mind grew fuzzy and was pulled into a disturbed, sleep-like state. He never noticed that he’d been sedated until after he woke up, eight days later.   
  


* * *

Ichigo sat on the edge of his bed, his disheveled body still adjusting to being awake. His anger filled eyes were glaring at a spot on the floor as if he expected to burn a hole through it.   
  


They had placed him in a solitary confinement room or something similar to the kind. His new living space consisted of simple bleached walls, a plain bed, an uncomfortable chair, a small table, and a small closet like space that was his bathroom. The door to the room had no handle or any another other visible features, ensuring he could not leave or even be tempted to escape.   
  


They had given him clothes. Surprisingly, it was not white like the typical attire Quincies were infamous for. Instead, they bestowed him a uniform similar to their own, only it was dark as night. It had too many buttons to his liking, but Ichigo gruffly admitted to himself that he was thankful they didn’t have Uryu’s odd sense of style and could live with it. It was just clothing to him. It held no significance to him. Though the stares he received during his walk from the recovery area to his new room said otherwise.    
Whispers and curious glances had followed him like a shadow while he was being transferred to his room. He caught a few mentions of his name. Sometimes the word “half-breed” popped up.    
  


Ichigo never looked at the passersby with their “hushed” whispers, keeping his gaze straight ahead and face impassive. He soon got the idea that his dark clothes were supposed to attract attention from the Quincy, making his presence known throughout the enormous palace. As if his hair didn’t already attract enough attention.    
  


The Quincy leader or “his majesty” as he was called, must have purposefully made sure Ichigo’s solitary confinement room was placed on the farthest end of his palace so that everyone would have time to catch a glimpse of the infamous Ichigo Kurosaki.   
  


“Tch,”   
  


His eyes wandered down to his arms to where the spiritual suppressors were. They looked like wrist braces, completely solid all the way around.  It prevented him from using his power in anyway, and it was also draining him of his reserves.    
  


He didn’t notice it at first for a few hours in his new room, given how he usually was with these sorts of things. But after a full day of wearing spiritual power suppressors, he soon began to notice…a lack of something.    
  


He was starting to feel numb and tired, more inclined to sleep than anything else. So sleep he did.   
But when Ichigo next awoke; he even more exhausted than when he first tried to rest.    
  


This scared him.   
  


People often accused him of having poor control of his spiritual pressure, but poor control was better than nothing to control. He recalled that losing his powers didn’t make him tired. Perhaps it was the fact that there was nothing there to drain away, that his spiritual pressure reserves had become simply nonexistent or were too damaged to touch by his loss of powers. But this was different. It also made him wonder—what happens when they drain it all away?   
  


The pain of the matter was he could do nothing about his situation, only wait.   
  


Wait for something to happen, for someone to come.   
  


Time slowly ticked by.    
  


Ichigo occupied himself with sitting in his stiff chair, staring at the wall opposite. His mind was sluggish in trying to find ways to keep himself active, just to do something. The numb feeling had gone away, replaced by an uncomfortable chill. He couldn’t stop shivering, even though the temperature in the room had been strangely warm.   
  


“Are you ready?”   
  


Ichigo started, his head turning the direction of the Quincy King who he had not sensed or noticed enter his prison.   
  


“F-for what?” he rasps, his throat dry as he climbs to his feet.    
  


“Come...” The man turns away from Ichigo as he opens the door then looks back, waiting.   
  


Ichigo glares as he walks over, unhappy at being unanswered, caged, and drained. Yhwach grabs his upper arm and steers him down a brightly lit corridor. They pass no one as they wind through a maze of doors and passageways.  He eventually finds himself in a large room that resembles some kind of quarantine room with an observation window on a higher level.   
  


“What is this?” he asks warily, shifting his weight from side to side as the other released him.   
  


The Quincy made his way to the center of the room and snapped his fingers as he replied, “You might recognize this.”   
  


Mid air twisted to reveal a familiar shape.   
  


Zangetsu.   
  


Ichigo's eyes widened as his soul called out with a comforting hum, at last he was whole again. Yhwach placed the blade in his hands and removed the spiritual surpressors surrounding his wrists.   
  


“W-why?”   
  


“You'll need it for what's to come next,” the Quincy king answered ominously. “Fight until you can no longer move.”   
  


Yhwach then vanished before Ichigo's eyes and reappeared in the doorway has it close with a BANG.   
  


Ichigo stared after him as fear pooled in his stomach. What were they going to do to him?   
  


**BEEEEEEEEEEEEP**   
  


A loud alarm sounded throughout the room as red lights flashed. Ichigo steeled himself as he tightened his grip on Zangetsu as he built up the remnants of his spiritual pressure. He walked slowly to the center of the room and fell back into a defensive position.    
  


The air moved around the left side of the room, spinning darkly until it formed into a shape.   
  


Hollow!   
  


Deciding to act quick, Ichigo charged the hollow, swinging back Zangetsu and cleaving down in as powerful a blow as he could muster. To his relief, his zanpaktou sliced cleanly through the beast, destroying it just as it had fully formed. Grinning, he then turned his sword immediately sideways, taking a slice at the wall. It bounced off and vibrated deeply.   
  


“Damn it,” he said and scowled at the wall while shaking the vibrations out of his sword arm.   
  


“You best not try that, Ichigo Kurosaki,” a voiced crackled throughout the room through some kind of spell, “the entire room is resistant to any kind of attack, especially from someone at your current level. Spend your strength fighting the hollows, if you want to survive.”   
  


He scoffed, slightly hysterical. “You know what? Bite me! Screw you twisted monsters! Take your twisted experiments and shove it, you f—“   
  


Three more stronger hollows appeared behind him and he spun around with a battle cry. They were obliterated. Four more appeared and he sliced through those too, angry.   
  


“Bring it on, you bastards!” he roared, summoning all his energy around himself, Zangetsu humming in agreement.   
  


Wave upon wave of hollows followed as Ichigo mowed through them as his pent up anger finally had an outlet. But it could only last for so long.   
  


Hollows began landing blows. A scrape to his arm, a cut to his leg, and a blow to the head. It only served to make him angrier, but little of his power remained even after his reuniting with Zangetsu.    


He suddenly found himself cornered by a large, ugly hollow when his soul cutter bounced off the thick hide. The hollow, sensing weakness in its prey took advantage of the opening and sliced its sharp claws down Ichigo's chest, who was unable to block.   
  


Ichigo screamed in pain as the hollow roared, pleased with the damaged it had caused. It was about to strike again when a gleaming arrow hollow split the mask. It crumpled, dead.   
  


Ichigo glanced up from his wound to Yhwach who was right in front of him.   
  


“At last,” he smiled and seized the boy by his throat and lifted him against the wall so his feet were hanging.   
  


Ichigo spluttered as his sword arm was gripped and also slammed to the wall. “G-geouff me!”   
  


The grip was like iron; utterly and completely unbreakable. Still smiling, the king started to chant.   
  


“ _ Licht durchdringen die Dunkelheit in der Seele. Verbrauchen die Seele. Anspruch die Seele. Kontrollieren Sie die Seele. Seele mit Waffe und Tier I behaupten. Nun, erhellen die Welt und legte alle innerhalb kahl _ .”   
  


Ichigo's vision narrowed and spun. 

* * *

 

He found himself blinking up at the sideways sky of his inner world.   
  


“Wha?”   
  


“Ichigo!”   
  


He was dragged up by an unusually frantic Zangetsu.   
  


“We have to move, now!”   
  


His sword pulled him across the sky scrapers and was joined by his hollow.   
  


“Over here!” the hollow called, pointing to a distant skyscraper. Zangetsu and his inner hollow grabbed a shoulder each and brought him to the said area.   
  


“What are you two doing?!” he asked, looking from one to the other as he allow them to manhandle him.   
  


“Protecting you.” his hollow grimly answered while leading them to a dark window. “The Quincy is forcing his way in here.”   
  


“Wait!” Ichigo ground his feet into the building. “I can help! I can't let you fight him alone!”   
  


“No.” Zangetsu said firmly and pushed Ichigo onto the window. “If he can touch you, he'll have control.”    
  


The Zanpakutou nodded to the hollow as they both simultaneously cried out, “BANKAI!”   
  


“But—” Ichigo's sword vanished from his hand as Tensa Zangetsu and his inner hollow gave him a glance.   
  


“Never again.” said Tensa, glaring at him before saying, “******* ************!”   
  


It was an attack Ichigo couldn't hear because Zangetsu hadn't taught him it yet. He couldn't predict that the chain on Tensa Zangetsu would extend into the ground, only to come up beneath him and bind him completely. He yelped when it suddenly started pulling him down into the window.   
  


“Please, let me help! He'll destroy you!” he pleaded as he sunk lower and lower into the building.   
  


The inner hollow crouched down, meeting his eyes.    
  


“It's our turn to protect you. We'll keep you safe, Ichigo. I promise.”   
  


Before he could make the comparison of how much his inner hollow was like himself, he was pulled completely into the window and down down down…   
  


* * *

Tensa nodded at the hollow before they both flash stepped to the center of Ichigo's inner world.   
  


“We can't join together, there's not enough power left.” Tensa said tonelessly, readying himself in a defensive position.   
  


“No matter, all that's important is keeping Ichigo safe,” the hollow replied. He started spinning his white sword.“Together or separate we fight til the end. Then I'll devour the Quincy.”   
  


“Be on your guard,” the other reprimanded.    
  


“Shuddap.”   
  


The air twisted in front of them. Snarling, the hollow leaped and slashed at it but the white blade was stopped by a hand that quickly materialized.    
  


“The anger,” the man stated before turning to the darker form, “and the calm.”   
  


The hollow jumped back to stand next to Tensa Zangetsu, sneering.   
  


“I won't let you take him,” said Tensa quietly, “He is not yours to control. He's a boy, not a weapon.”   
  


“He's ours!” the hollow hissed.   
  


“I never expected complicity,” Yhwach laughed as he formed a blade in his hand. “You always fight to the end, no matter the odds.” He starts walking forwards. “Which is why you'll make such a great weapon, Ichigo.”   
  


The hollow roared, charging a cero while slashing a strong Getsuga Tenshou at the Quincy.   
  


“Your anger is particularly venomous.”   
  


The Getsuga Tenshou was knocked out of the way with the sword while the king's other hand blocked the cero with his hand. He quickly brought his sword to his back in time to block Tensa Zangetsu's stab at his spine.  The Quincy’s blade glowed and Tensa's eyes widened as he became frozen.   
  


“No!”   
  


The hollow, which had been charging a follow up froze as well.   
  


“Enough of this.” Yhwach walked past their still forms. “I have use for you, after all. You've used up nearly all your reserves which makes you so easy to manipulate. Now...” He leaped upon the skyscraper with dark windows. “to end this.”   
  


He sliced through a window, shattering glass and chains behind it. Reaching down, he grabbed the front of Ichigo's shihaksho and lifted him up. The boy was unconscious; be it from the lack of power or his sword's doing. His limbs were limp and head tilted back, mouth gaping. There was no sword on him.   
  


“At last.”   
  


Yhwach brings Ichigo over to the other skyscraper where the two pieces of his soul still remain frozen and sets him down between them. He leans down and place his palm on Ichigo's chest and murmurs a word.   
  


“ _ Beherrschen _ .”    
  


A glowing blue spike formed at the center of Ichigo's chest from which lines started spreading to form a circular pattern. The landscape begins to shutter, blue tendrils spreading across every building.   
The hollow and the sword both went limp, crumpling to the ground as matching spikes formed at the center of their beings.   
  


“Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for a while, I hope you enjoyed part 1.  
> Be warned, I'm gonna kills some characters. I'm sorry for the future trauma.


End file.
